


Pretty Boy messaged you

by SockWantsToDie



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Attempted Sexual Assault, Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Chatting & Messaging, Dogs, Emotional Hurt, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Harassment, Henry is a Little Shit, Minor Original Character(s), Not Canon Compliant, Oblivious parents, Patrick Hockstetter is His Own Warning, Secret Admirer, Teen Angst, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-11-05 12:41:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17919017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SockWantsToDie/pseuds/SockWantsToDie
Summary: ⟦Victor Criss x Female Reader⟧One night you get a random message from some person with the username Pretty Boy. Who would've guessed the boy behind it was him.





	1. Who's Pretty Boy?

Today's suffering was finally coming to an end after the final bell rang for the day. Some students sprint out of the classroom and some power walk. Some had packed up early enough to be the first ones to leave while others were lagging behind. I was one of the ones who were lagging behind. After gathering up all my things, I left the classroom. The hallways were easy to navigate through now that most of the early birds had left already, leaving a small amount of stragglers behind. I walk over to my locker after turning down the right wing, and spin my combination into the lock. I pull the locker open and get startled almost immediately when something falls out and onto the floor, but I relaxed when I saw that it was just a note.

I reach down to pick it up, and take a moment to unfold it. I wasn't particularly afraid of what it might be. For I've gotten every trick in the book hurled at me throughout my life here in Derry. All the way from fake confessions to venomous death threats, all of them originating from the boys who seemed to bully and harass me daily. But I digress.

I stare down at the note after setting my books down on the floor in front of my now open locker, taking a moment to read the words written on it.

> _Hey, so this is gonna sound kind of really extremely weird, but I've seen you around school anddd was sorta wondering if you had an AOL account? You know, so I could add you and we could talk more. I promise that I'm a great conversation._
> 
> _—PB_
> 
>  
> 
> _P.S. if you do have an account, then just write it down on this paper and put it back in your locker, I can get it later._

I stare down at the paper in my hand with furrowed brows. The handwriting was a mix between scratchy and neat, and the letter itself had the slightest bit of a faint scent that I could only describe as, well, minerals. I look away from the note, and scan the hallway. The faces around me failing to stick out in any way as I clutch the paper to my chest before I look back down at it. 

Who the fuck was PB? I couldn't help but wonder.

But regardless, I pulled out a pen from my pocket, my paranoid brain screaming at me that this is somehow a trap. But, I ignored it as I flattened the paper against the lockers, writing down my AOL username. Mom said I needed to make some friends, so why not give this a shot? After deciding that it was in my best interest to not bother questioning how this PB kid was gonna get the paper out of my locker, I quietly fold the note back up. Gently, I put the paper back in my locker and continue on to get my stuff in order to go home for the day.

I take my time loading up my bag with my homework, books and pencils, hoping that I could out-wait my bullies. Although sometimes they caught me in the morning or random intervals throughout the day, since I hadn't seen hide nor hair of them at all, I knew for a fact that they would most likely be outside waiting on me.

I glance up at the analog clock on the walls, before slinging my bag over my shoulder and shutting my locker. I turn, and make my way down the corridor to the nearby exit that led out to the front. I push the doors open and walk outside, trudging down the steps and onto the sidewalk below. But that was when they caught me.

"Hey livestock!" A voice calls out to me "Forgetting something?"

My blood runs cold as I spin around, immediately realizing that I was surrounded by at least three of the four members of the Bowers Gang. Suspicious and slightly afraid, I glance around for the forth, trying to find that specific one so that I couldn't get sneak attacked in any way. But he didn't seem to be around.

"Aw, is somebody lookin' for Victor?" I hear the voice of Patrick Hockstetter coo at me

I turn back around to face in his direction, the absence of the skinnier and much shorter Victor Criss leaving my mind once I met those cold blue eyes. His gaze turned me to stone in a way that could make Medusa cower in fear. Patrick Hockstetter was by far the worst person to deal with when it came to the Bowers Gang. He was even scarier then the leader, Henry Bowers himself.

Patrick moves from where he stood to the right side of Henry Bowers and saunters up to me. The schoolyard began to empty out and some students stood still to watch the scene before them, leaving me to defend myself on my own will. Patrick's shiny old black combat boots thud against the concrete beneath them with every step he takes, and he was in front of me in mere seconds thanks to those freakishly long chicken legs of his. The ones that today, were clad in a pair of holy black skinny jeans. I step back just a bit as he stands before me, towering over me with a hunched back. He suddenly removes his hands from where they were stuffed deep into his jeans pockets and I flinch as a single hand is brought up to cup my cheek. His touch burned my skin, like a demon burned when they touched a bible.

"We were wondering when you were gonna come out of the school, livestock." He tells me shortly

Patrick tilts his head as he steps closer to me.I couldn't tell if I was wincing more at the disgust of his touch or at the questionable nickname he'd given me last year. 

"You were 3 minutes late," He drawls "I was worried you were gonna skip out on seeing me"

Henry Bowers comes into my peripheral vision as Patrick removes his hand from my cheek in a slow and drawn out manor.

"Fucks sake, Patrick" Henry remarks in annoyed and snappy tone "Just throw yourself at 'er already."

Patrick's hands go into the pockets of the flannel zip up jacket he wore over a plain black T-shirt this time, instead of going into his skinny jeans. The taller boy turns to his slightly shorter friend with a wicked grin and a spine-tingling lick of his lips that made me feel queasy.

"Can I, Henry?" He asks, clearly more excited than he should be

"No," Henry snaps "And stop  _doin_ ' that _shit_ with your tongue. It makes me wanna cut it  _the fuck_ outta your mouth."

I have half a mind to take off at this point, across the schoolyard and down the street, maybe lose them in the barrens this time while they're focused on each other. But after past attempts I knew that they were a lot faster than I ever would be, and that it was useless to run away. I look around the schoolyard, my eyes falling on a couple different groups of people, who stared at me and my harassers expectantly.

"You gonna look at me, or do I gotta make ya?" I hear Henry say

I turn to him just as he was reaching out to grab me, force me to turn around and look at him. And he still grabbed me, but just tugged me a couple steps away from Patrick, instead opting to throw me into the grass behind him. Belch Huggins, the heaviest of the group finally joins in on the action as he leans over, burping in my face as Patrick hovers over Henry's shoulder, his hands still stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

"So what're we doin' with 'er today, Henry?" Patrick questions

Henry swats at his taller friend, shooing him away as he steps to the side. Patrick's smile ceases to falter though as Henry shoots him a scowl.

"When you get the fuck out of my space I'll tell you!" Henry barks

Henry stands in his spot for a moment, fists clenched tight enough to make the knuckles turn white. The boy wearing a grey Harley Davidson muscle shirt glares at Patrick, looking like he was about to completely snap as he reached into his pocket and took out his switchblade. He presses the button that flicks it open as he turns back to me, kneeling down to my height. Patrick joins in, holding my ankles into the dirt as I try to crawl away.

"W-Wait! Whoa! Henry! Henry, don't do that!" I plead loudly

Belch grabs onto my shoulders, holding me upright as Henry brings the switchblade closer to my face.

"Henry," A bored voice comes from behind him and Patrick

Henry turns around with a snarl, and I glance up, my eyes falling onto the missing member of the Bowers Gang, Victor Criss. He stood up tall with his arms crossed over his chest, his skinny arms showing from where the plain white T-shirt he wore ended.

"What?" Henry snaps "What the _fuck_ do you want, Vic?"

Patrick finally turns his head away from me and to the skinnier boy standing behind him. Victor barely even reacts to Henry's tone or Patrick's unwavering stare as he uncrosses his arms from over his chest. He casually pushes his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans, taking a second to shift over to the weight of one foot as he sighs in an even more bored tone. Honestly though, his jeans looked like they could going to fall off of him at any moment if it weren't for the black leather belt he wore.

"The losers are walking down the street, we could probably catch them if we go over there now."

Henry looks back to me with an agitated sneer and I just continue to watch him in fear. Patrick turns his attention to me as well, and with another disturbing lick of his lips, he goes to speak.

"I like the idea of staying—" Patrick begins, but is quickly interrupted by Henry

"Fine." Henry agrees

Henry shoots Patrick yet another bitter glare as he stands up. Henry closes his switchblade and pockets it. Belch releases his grip on my shoulders and stands up as well, but leans over to the side of my face as he burps once again. I cringe and wave at the air in front of me as Belch walks over to stand by Victor. Henry watches Patrick expectantly for a moment as Patrick tries to crawl closer to me, before he grabs him by the back of his flannel jacket and pulls him up. Patrick growls an animalistic growl as he gets into Henry's face for a moment, but Henry jabs him in the chest with an accusing finger.

"Watch it, Hockstetter." Henry warns

Patrick turns around and walks over to Victor and Belch, even going as far as to shove past them, bumping shoulders with Victor as he whispers something to the smallest of the group.

"I'll see you later, livestock!" Patrick calls to me over his shoulder "And don't think for a second that I'm finished with you!"

Henry makes his way over to his clique where Victor and Belch wait patiently for him.

"They better still be there," I hear Henry darkly tell Vic as he jabbed the boy in the chest

Victor just huffs in reply, a slight snarl on his face as he trails behind his group. I watch, confused, as worn and dirty converse trudge across the grass and he spares one final expressionless look at me, before he turns back to walk with his friends.

With a confused tilt of my head, I furrowed my brows, one lifting up by it's own volition, decorating my face in wonder as I watched their figures retreat across the school yard and down the street.

Did I seriously just escape getting stabbed by literal coincidence?

I squint in order to make out the fear-mongering foursome as they catch up with the much smaller and drastically less intimidating group of seven. And after lying still for what feels like forever, I finally make a hesitant move to flip myself over onto my knees and push myself up onto my feet. I was suspicious, to say the least; as dumb as that sounds. I couldn't possibly know if they were going to suddenly come back to me or not. Even though I could no longer see them from the schoolyard.

I quietly brush at the green stains on my pants in a useless manor, silently working on my excuse for the day. The one I would give to my parents if they decided to ask me why I was so dirty, again. Upon straightening up, I walk in a small circle, turning my head every which-way as my eyes scan the grass for my bag.

Ah, there it is.

I take a couple steps over to the tan sack, that was covered in multicolored patches. Quickly, I extend my hand outward and grab the strap of it and with a heave I lift it up, easily slipping it back onto my shoulder. Habitually, I raise my hand and run it through my [hair color] locks, pushing the strands out of my face. A sudden unique honk of a car makes me jump and immediately I look in the direction of my dad's beat-to-shit pickup truck. It was a big black thing that was sprayed with dirt from the road, and today it was parked just a few feet away from one of the buses that remained still lined up at the curb. I watch as my dad pokes his head out of the rolled down window and waves to me expectantly, his usual stoic expression painting his face. Not wanting him to get a ticket or get into a fight with the bus driver of the bus behind him, I quickly take of running over to him.

As I come up on the truck, I slow down to a walk. Which prompts my dad, who was hanging out of the window with a cigarette smoking between his fingers on one hand, whilst the other acted as a pillow for his chin.

"How was school?" He asks gruffly after he takes a drag from his half-gone cigarette

"Fine." I reply shortly

I round the truck and grab the handle of the passenger side door, popping it open. It takes a moment for me to get in, since I had to climb. This was curtosy of the lift kit that my dad had gotten about a month ago (as if the car needed it.) After finally plopping down in my seat, I toss my bag into the back and focus on shutting the door and buckling my seatbelt. When I was finished with that, I looked up just in time to see my dad flicking the finished cancer stick out the window before he reaches up toward the ignition to grabs the key. With a twist he sends the engine roaring to life. After a quick glance behind him, he quickly swerves the car onto the road, doing a full U-turn, as he usually did. The bus that was originally behind us gives a sharp honk, since it had begun pulling away from the curb at that exact moment.

"Anything happen at all?" He asks, eyeing my stained jeans and dirty white T-shirt

Tiredly, I place my elbow on the windowsill of the passenger door and rest my head on my palm. Opting to stare out the window, rather than face my dad.

"We played football." I answer, not looking at him

He hums in acknowledgement.

To say that I was exhausted was a serious understatement, especially considering how fast I fell asleep on the door like that.


	2. Chapter 2: Rise n' Shine, Sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to update. I only just recently got back into writing again. Anyway, here it is, Chapter 2!

My eyes crack open and I give a soft moan of disapproval as I'm gently shaken awake. I lift my head off of my now painfully numb arm and let it fall to my side as I straighten up, moving to stretch my other arm, my legs, and my back.  


"We're home." Dad says, matter-off-factly

I glance out of the windshield and at the scenery that was the inside of the garage surrounding us. A small yawn makes its way past my lips as I rub my tired eyes.

"Right." I reply "I see that now."

I shift my seating and unbuckle my seatbelt. I slip it back into it's place beside the seat, before I move to reach into the back to grab my bag. Casually, I tug it into the front and slip it over my shoulder whilst I turn and pop the door open again. Dad was already standing beside the truck with his door shut by the time I was finally climbing out. Once my feet hit the grey concrete, I throw the door shut behind me. Whilst he took a moment to lock the car, I just bent over and touch my toes in a last resort effort to make my back crack, since it hadn't done it before. And, it worked, thankfully.

I stand back upright as my dad makes his way over to the garage door and follow after him. He whistles his usual tune of whatever KMFDM song he had been listening to on the radio on the way over here. I knew which one it was, just not by name. He ascends the three steps leading up to the screen door and the white door behind it. It was the only thing that connected the garage and the house together. After standing there for a moment, finishing the cigarette he'd lit at some point, he stubs it out in the clay ashtray that rested atop the shelf. Mind you, the shelf that was just a wooden slab connected to a couple of black metal bars that held it up against the wall.

Finally, the screen door is opened, extending outward and prompting my Dad to step aside. I take the handle on my hands whilst he pushes the white actual door leading into the house open. He kicks the dirt off his brown workman's boots against the small gap between the top step and the bottom of the door before stepping inside. I make sure to do the same.

Walking inside, a familiar thumping of big paws hitting the carpeted floor immediately graces my ears as I shut both of the garage doors behind me. With a smile, I stop beside the back room to remove my shoes and put my bag on the hook whilst Dad kept on his merry way, walking through the den and into the living room. Now, the den and the back room weren't all that special. But, then again, neither was any other room in the house.

Mind you, the den itself was twice the size of the living room. Inside it contained a nice short carpet that was colored in the same shade egg nog was colored in. The walls were a dark wood, and were covered in family photos and other things. The only windows were the two in the back and they were covered in shades and long white drapes. It had a couple lazy boy chairs in it. The one on the right was soft and as dark green as the plant life in the rainforest got when it was shrouded in light shadows, and the other was more firm and a gentle shade of red. Between them was a single end table, wooden with glass in the middle of it, and a single shelf. It had a lamp on it along with other things. Even though the ceiling fan hanging above had its own set of working lights. In front of the chairs was the fireplace, a beautiful stone thing that was built extending almost completely out of the wall, like the house was built around it. Behind both that and the chairs was the rarely used pool table that Dad kept from his college days. It had all the poles and balls scattered atop it, since we still had yet to hang them back up.

Meanwhile, the back room was in the same state as the garage, except the walls were painted a gentle lilac. It was filled with our washer and dryer, along with a couple metal shelves that were covered in separately in chemical things that we couldn't fit underneath the sink and unused towels, sheets, blankets, and pillow cases. The floor was still concrete though, but that was because Dad had to rip up the wood floor last summer when the washer had broke and flooded the room.

But nevermind that, I needed to go to my room and get my homework done.

"Hey Simon," He greets the source of the thumps

Simon barked cheerfully at my Dad as he disappeared behind the archway commecting the den and the living room. At this point, I had barely managed to get one shoe off and put my bag on it's hook when Simon had come barreling through the archway connecting the living room and the den, barking at me in excitement.

"Simon!!" I exclaim, cheerfully

I extended my arms out to happily accept him as he jumped on me, knocking me back against the wall because of his size. He sniffs at me as I rub his face and scratch behind his ears, grinning ear-to-ear as he jumps up every minute or so to lick my face.

"Yes hi! Hi! Hello!" I greet him "I missed you too, Simon!"

"Simon! Come here!" I hear my dad shout "Let [First Name] get settled!"

Simon jumps up to give me one last lick before he disappears back through the den and into the living room. I wipe the slobber off my face and return to taking my other shoe off. After kicking it into the rubber shoes tray with the other one, I turn to pull the flap of my bag open and take out everything that I'd need for tonight's homework. After shutting and re-buttoning the bag closed, I finally make my way into and through the den, almost tripping over one of Simon's dog toys as I went. Believe it or not it'd been almost half an hour since I'd gotten home at this point, according to the antique black and white cat-themed analog clock that hung high up next to the archway.

Upon coming to said archway I pause. The living room was a bit dark and the only light source was whatever sport was currently playing on TV, coupled with the faint light that managed to creep it's way in through the shades and curtains of the two windows up front behind the couch. The ones that faced the front yard. I glance over at the aforementioned couch that was colored an oak tree bark brown. It was where Dad was sat comfortably with his head rolled back and his mouth wide open, allowing quiet snores to sneak out. He sat with his legs crossed over one another atop the coffee table and with one arm hanging over the back whilst the other remained draped around Simon, who had his head lying on Dad's leg. He peaked up at me, letting out a small woof that I quickly shush. With a small roll of my eyes in response to my Dad's antics along with a mental note of where I get my ability to fall asleep anywhere nearly instantaneously; I gently pat my thigh and Simon jumps down from the couch after weaseling out from under Dad's arm. He follows after me as I make my way over to the front door that the stairs faced. Quietly, I trudge up them with Simon by my side.

Now, I would've gone into the kitchen, but judging by the clinking coming from that room behind the couch, Mom was too busy for me to pester at the moment. Well, that and I don't think I want to get chewed out for the dirt on my clothes just yet.

After just barely trudging a few steps down the short hallway that if you continued straight down, you'd pass the guest room and the first bathroom; I turn right. Upon reaching my personal sanctuary, I conteplate kicking the door open in a theatrical fashipn, but instead opt to turn the knob instead. Simon was the first of the two of us to head inside. Since he'd made a move before I got the chance to take even a single step forward. Upon shufflingg inside after my doggo, I quietly shut the door behind me with a small sigh of relief.

I shortly consider leaning back against the door and sliding down into a sitting position. Just like I'd done last Tuesday in order to have a good cry about how much I hate school. However, I quickly tuck that thought away into a dark corner and decide that I'd be better off getting on the computer for the rest of the day and pretending that I don't exist. 'Cause yaknow, that's healthy too.

Before heading over to my computer, though, I bend over to pet Simon with my free hand for a moment. Before sending him over to my bed where he jumps on top of it, taking a second to get comfortable among my messy blankets, pillows, and sheets. All the while I make my way over to my computer.

I plop down into my desk chair, setting my homework down beside my mouse, and lean over to the tower, pressing the power button. It whirrs to life as I straighten back up and turn on the monitor. I lean back, swinging from side to side patiently whilst I wait. It takes a moment of the screen doing it's thing before it comes to the screen asking for my password. I sit up and type it in before finding myself waiting once more for it to load. Soon enough, though, I was finally in and almost immediately after all my desktop icons finish loading up, AOL opens up with a series of pings.

_Ping!_  
_Ping!_  
_Ping!_

**Pretty Boy:** so  
**Pretty Boy:** hey  
**Pretty Boy:** i hope this is the right user

My eyes widen in surprise at this. I had completely forgotten about earlier!

But just as the surprise starts to register, I grow to feel a little suspicious. I was one of the loneliest kids in Derry, so how did I know that this wasn't some sort of prank?

After clicking the message box, I begin typing back an answer.

**[Username]:** Depends  
**[Username]:** are you the person who left that note in my locker?

_Ping!_  
_Ping!_

**Pretty Boy:** yeah that was me  
**Pretty Boy:** sorry if it was a bit strange but I gotta be all mysterious n shit

**[Username]:** I guess so.  
**[Username]:** But since we aren't in school right now can I ask who you are?

_Ping!_

**Pretty Boy:** im just a random person from school

**[Username]:** well yeah, but who??

_Ping!_

**Pretty Boy:** it's kind of a secret

I let out an annoyed huff at that answer. Of course I should've known that it was gonna be like this. This random person gets to know who I am, but I don't get to know who they are.

My fingers hover over the keys, completely still as I read the message over and over a few times, trying to figure out what I want my response to be. Soon enough I was typing back.

**[Username]:** I hate secrets.

Well, that wasn't completely true, but that didn't really matter. I wanted answers.

**[Username]:** listen buddy, if this is some sort of cruel joke then just get it over with

_Ping!_  
_Ping!_  
_Ping!_

Whoa, he's pretty defensive.

**Pretty Boy:** its no joke!!!  
**Pretty Boy:** i swear I genuinely wanna talk to you  
**Pretty Boy:** you seem pretty cool yaknow?

Goddammit, it _was_ a joke. I _knew_ I shouldnt have given out my account name!

**[Username]:** Okay so this is definitely a prank then.  
**[Username]:** Nice try.  
**[Username]:** Maybe do some work on your lying skills for next time  
**[Username]:** Goodbye.

_Ping!_  
_Ping!_

**Pretty Boy:** WAIT!!  
**Pretty Boy:** isnt there any way i can convince you this is serious?

Damn, someone's determined.

**[Username]:** not really

_Ping!_  
_Ping!_

**Pretty Boy:** okay, how about this  
**Pretty Boy:** maybe just give me a chance??

I stare at the screen, about to type some strongly passive-aggressive message back to this guy. But, I got stopped by another message from him.

_Ping!_  
_Ping!_

**Pretty Boy:** you can delete me in a week or so if you decide that im not really up to your standards  
**Pretty Boy:** i promise its worth your time

I sigh and place my head in my hands. Sure, this was pretty obviously a joke, but did I actually have anything to lose at this point? I had no friends, I barely told my parents anything that was more than a lie, I never did much outside of pc gaming—

_Ping!_

**Pretty Boy:** please.

Ah fuck it. I have nothing.

I finally start typing back.

**[Username]:** Okay fine.  
**[Username]:** But only because you seem like you have your heart set on this

_Ping!_  
_Ping!_  
_Ping!_  
_Ping!_

**Pretty Boy:** so what if i do :P  
**Pretty Boy:** anyway i gotta go  
**Pretty Boy:** my friends are waiting for me outside  
**Pretty Boy:** maybe ill talk to you later? i dunno when ill be back

**[Username]:** Maybe.

_**Pretty Boy has gone offline** _

I push myself a bit away from my desk to swivel around. I glance over at Simon, who was still lying on my bed.

"I don't know about this, Sime." I confess

He picks his head up and stares at me, his tail wagging as his tongue droops out of his mouth.

"Aw, who am I kidding." I sigh "Maybe it wouldn't hurt to try, huh?"

I smile softly as Simon gets up and hops down from my bed so that he could walk over to me. I reach out to pet him as he jumps up so his front paws were on my lap.

"What do you think?" I question

Simon licks my cheek a couple times, catching my by surprise as my face crinkles up with my laughter.

"Yeah, maybe you're right." I say, continuing to pet him

After casually losing myself in thought, I find myself stargazing around my room after a moment of staring at his cute face. My bed was even messier than before thanks to Simon, but I didn't really mind. My posters were all in place, as were the band and gaming shirts, the large picture frames containing even more family photos, and the dream catcher that hung slightly crooked over my bed. The walls were still their usual [favorite color] shade and my wooden floor was still mostly covered by my [color] carpet. My dresser was still beside my bedroom door, and the end table that matched the one in the den that I used as a nightstand was sat right next to it, underneath my bedroom window that showed the front lawn when the [color curtains] were brushed aside and the shades were moved as well. My dresser was still between the door leading into the hallway and the door to the bathroom connected to my room was still covered in random junk. My trashcan was still under my desk, and my bookshelf was still tucked into the corner.

Yep, everything was in place.

But.. something inside me made me feel like there was something I was missing.

With a dismissive shake of my head, I turn back to Simon, who sat in front of me, staring at me patiently, as I had apparently stopped petting him at some point. I reach out to him, resuming petting him for a moment before I turn back around to my desk. I still had homework to do, after all.


End file.
